


something to prove

by OfRunesAndRuins



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, all the incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27516601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfRunesAndRuins/pseuds/OfRunesAndRuins
Summary: His head is swimming when he further pushes Sergio against the wall, crowding him with all his body. They’re stuck there, the bulk of Andres holding a faintly trembling Sergio up, hiding the two of them from view.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	something to prove

When Sergio pulls him into the monastery hallway to talk at him about how it was a bad idea to bring Tatiana into the fold, talking about chaos and love and other things he clearly doesn’t understand, Andres finally has enough of it. He cuts short Sergio’s passionate plea.

“What is this? Why do you care? You know nothing about love, dear brother.”

“This isn’t about love, Andres. This is about the plan.”

“I can love both the plan and the woman.” 

“She’ll betray you. She’ll betray the plan.”

“Hmm,” Andres ponders, looking at Sergio. “I thought you didn’t care much about the plan. I thought you said it wasn’t going to work.”

“It isn’t. You’ll die, Andres. Throwing a woman in, a personal connection, it can only ruin things further.”

“Personal connections? What would you know about personal connections? About women?”

“I’ve had— I’ve been with women before.”

“Good for you,” Andres says, the mockery sweet in his voice. “Putting your dick in something warm doesn’t make you an expert at relationships.”

Sergio flushes, self-conscious and virginal and Andres… he wants to make him squirm. Sergio needs a taste of his own medicine.

“_We_ have a personal connection, don’t we?”

“That’s different.”

“How?” He approaches Sergio, a slow prowl, and Sergio retreats until his back hits the wall. He’s scrambling for words, mouth opening and closing a couple of times, but he can’t seem to find anything to say. He’s looking at Andres who’s close, so close, smirking at him, confident and cruel, and Sergio stutters.

“I— I— “

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, to find the words because there’s the sound of footsteps approaching. Sergio grabs his shoulders and spins him around, shoving him in a tiny alcove in the wall. 

His head is swimming when he further pushes Sergio against the wall, crowding him with all his body. They’re stuck there, the bulk of Andres holding a faintly trembling Sergio up, hiding the two of them from view. The footsteps approach and Sergio holds his breath, frightened but not by the closeness of the monks - he seems afraid of Andres. It makes Andres fucking gloat. Sergio seems terrified and Andres is emboldened, getting his lips right by Sergio’s ear, whispering a breathy shhh that was more felt than heard, judging by the way Sergio’s body shivers in his arms. And when he presses closer— 

“Little brother,” He just turns his head, he has to see Sergio’s face, he can’t not. “You’re _hard_.” 

Sergio doesn’t contradict him, he doesn’t try to move. The footsteps come fainter now as the monks leave the hallway. Silence settles.

“Tell me how this is different.” Sergio doesn’t. His chest is heaving for air and he’s got one hand wrapped tightly around Andres’ forearm. He’s panting, his mouth is parted and he’s _hard_.

Andres is suddenly hit with a delirious need, this wrong curiosity, this bad boldness.

“You want this. Fuck, you’re— all this speech about Tatiana, are you— You’re jealous.” 

“No,” Sergio’s lips say the words, convincing and firm, and Andres would be more inclined to believe it were it not for the fact that his brother is grinding against him. Just a little, but in no way by mistake. It was intentional, helpless, shameless.

“Yes,” Andres corrects him. So what if this is wrong. None of what’s happening is particularly right - he’s going to die, how was that right? And— right in who’s eyes? Who made the rules and decided everyone should just play along, no objections? Andres was way past playing along; he’s decided to make his own rules, and if he wanted this? Fair game. So he grinds right back, and it’s just as familiar as it’s foreign. 

Because he doesn’t know _this_, but he’s played with his own dick for his entire life so he’s not at all shy when he grinds against Sergio’s, he’s not shy but he’s shocked, a gasp caught on his lips as he’s electrified by the feel of the hardness pressed against his own. Sure, it’s through clothes, through frankly too many clothes, but it feels absolutely divine. Wrong in all the ways but those that matter - and the only things that matter in that particular moment are the squirming in his gut and the twitch in his cock where it’s pressed right against Sergio’s.

They’re not far from the door but they’re still hidden away, and Tatiana’s laughter cuts through the silence. Andres smiles at that, they’re all so close, so close. But none closer than Sergio. 

This is true hedonism, pure debauchery. All the things Andres holds dear, it’s right there, practically his for the taking - and he does. He unbuckles Sergio’s trousers and works his hand inside and Sergio gasps when Andres’ hand wraps around his cock, hard and hot. He gasps and he looks at Andres with wide eyes behind his big frames, but he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t push Andres away. So when Andres drops his forehead against Sergio’s, he doesn’t fight it, he pushes his hips forward, into the tight fist, seeking the contact. His nails dig sharply in Andres’ arm, the one that’s braced against the wall, and he thrusts in his hand with a helpless, whispered sigh. 

Sergio comes shockingly quickly, coating Andres’ wrist as he spills in the confines of his clothes, but he’s still silent, still hanging onto Andres’ arm. He doesn’t say anything during or after, when Andres takes his hand out and wipes it carelessly on his robe.

He didn’t come, and Gods, he’s so hard. He’s hungry for it, for the indecency of what this means, of what it does to him, how it crackles through him in dark little speckles, and he wants to revel in it - but he doesn’t. No, he smooths his robe down, smiles, and places one single soft kiss against Sergio’s cheek. 

“You won’t betray me though, will you?” And, before stepping out of the alcove, out of the door and right outside, where he’ll kiss Tatiana with the same mouth that breathed the air that his brother breathed as he came; right before he turns, he says, “Because your ‘personal connection’ theory is shit.”


End file.
